Long Haul 100: Squeezing Out Sub 20

PRERACE

Long Haul 100 wasn't even on my radar under until 12 weeks ago. After DNFing at Javelina in late October, I was anxious to use my training towards another 100 mile race. Because I had put 50+ miles on my legs at Javelina and wanted to BQ at Rehoboth in early December, it made the most sense to look at the January/February for another 100.

There were two major considerations for choosing one - I wanted a Western States qualifier and I needed it to be relatively inexpensive travel-wise. Rocky Raccoon 100 in Texas has been on my short list for awhile, but once I found out that Long Haul was a Western States qualifier, it seemed like a no-brainer to just drive down to the Tampa area. I knew people who had raced it, who lived close by, and I had a couple of friends doing it in 2020!

I opted work a half day on Thursday so I could drive to Florida that afternoon/evening and have all of Friday to relax. Angie graciously let me stay with her in Sarasota and we went out for pizza and beer when I rolled in after 8pm.

Knowing I could sleep in and rest as much as I needed to on Friday was perfect. I hung out a bit with her pup and then following her advice, drove out to Siesta Key for a morning on the beach. She recommended a local coffee shop a block from the beach and I took my cold brew and cinnamon roll straight to the ocean. It was a beautiful January morning on the gulf and I waded in the water, people-watched, and dug my toes in the soft white sand. 

As it approached noon, I met Angie on her lunch break from work at a tuna bowl place in downtown Sarasota and then made my way north to meet Jen and Dan at packet pickup. Dan and Dan's parents had offered to let me stay with them on Friday night and it couldn't have been any better! They were super close to the race and chatting with them all afternoon was the perfect distraction from the task at hand the following day. That evening, we piled in the car (after removing the Mahjong game from the backseat) to pick up John for dinner who was staying in a nearby hotel and met Jen at an Italian restaurant. 

Back at the house, I laid out my clothes for race morning and got everything squared away so all I had to do when I woke up was get dressed, fill my hydration bottle, and eat breakfast.

I don't think I have EVER slept so soundly before a race. I didn't wake up once and in fact, was sleeping so hard when my alarm went off that I was confused as to where I was! We left exactly when we needed to and because Dan was driving, I didn't have any worries about navigating or getting there in enough time. 

As with most ultras, the scene at the start was pretty relaxed. People were piling their drop bags onto the shuttle trailer, waiting in line for the porta-potties, and catching up with friends.

I jumped in the porta-potty line right when we got there and then sat in the car until there was about 5 minutes to start, staying off my feet as long as I could. 

THE RACE

I don't recall a countdown or any fanfare about the start except that when it was time to go, I remember thinking how underwhelming it was to begin. With a long day and night ahead, I didn't worry too much about the first mile. I just let the pack spread out a bit as we ran down the paved road to the start of the first spur. I stayed behind John and Patrick for a bit while they chatted and just listened as the day awoke. 

The course was a mile on pavement to a main intersection where 3 spurs came together. Each spur was an out-and-back so you could see runners coming and going all day long, no matter where you were in the field. It was like running the petals of a flower and coming back to the center. For all but about a half mile there was plenty of space and I actually really, really liked the short out-and-backs because you were never alone for even more than a few minutes. It was mostly double-track or wider and that meant that passing or getting passed was never some awkward moment. 

Spur 1 was about 3 miles total, spur 2 was about 5 miles, and spur 3 was about 2 miles. We ran all of the spurs 10 times except the very last lap, you got to skip spur 3 and just run into the finish. 

The first 2 laps or 20ish miles were pretty uneventful save for a couple of trips to the porta-potty. The weather was perfect and the sun was still hiding way beyond the treeline. The Florida forest offered a good amount of shade and I don't recall it feeling particularly warm until about 11am. I shed my tank after the first lap, but it felt cool enough that I really didn't want ice until I got past the marathon mark. 

I was trying to stay between 10:00 - 11:00 minute miles as much as possible. I knew if I was feeling good I would slip under 10s in the beginning, but I was also being very mindful that I needed to take a little more time at aid stations and that I would inevitably get slower after 100k. The main goal was just to finish the race and feel confident again about 100s after Javelina. But of course I wanted to do the best I could and I was hoping to finish in a time that was reasonably close to my PR. I didn't really feel like I was necessarily in PR shape, but I knew that I was motivated by my DNF and I was running more comfortably than I had in over a year. My body just finally felt like me again. 

After the first marathon, I hit a bit of a rough patch and knew the heat of the day was starting to get to me. At Javelina, I was so worried about getting in and out of aid fast that I failed to take care of myself properly. I was determined to make sure that I took a few extra minutes this time. 

So at mile 30, I took a few chances and it paid off. My feet felt tired and with groomed trails, I decided to change from my Hoka Torrent trail shoe) to the Hoka Carbon X (road shoe). I got a frosty mini Coke from Dan and chugged on it while I changed my shoes, restocked my gels, and decided to hit the music early. I train with music for road and treadmill runs, but never had listened to it during a 100 before. Instead of saving it for later, I opted to let it help me with this rough patch. There was a minor snafu when I realized my Mighty music player was completely dead, but my old iPod Nano came through. I didn't even have something to carry it in so I just shoved it in my sports bra and hoped it wouldn't annoy the shit out of me. 

At the aid station, I had the volunteer scoop ice into my buff and with calories, caffeine, a cooled neck, fresh shoes, and tunes, I bopped down the road like I was just starting. I felt GOOD. And it was weird because it lasted about 15 miles that I felt super happy and super strong. I smiled widely at fellow runners, chatted with the volunteers at the aid stations, and things were great.

Around mile 45, which happened to be nearly the exact same mileage as when the shitshow began at Javelina, I was running along the asphalt section and puked. Just one puke though. And I walked for a minute or so, trying to not worry too much about how this seemed way too familiar. As the nausea subsided a bit, I jogged slowly, testing the waters. Thankfully, that was the only puke all race!

When I came into mile 50, I remember that I was definitely not as chipper as I was before, but I was still moving well enough and hitting 50 miles just under 9 hours or so which is exactly where I wanted to be. The darkness and tired legs would catch up with me, but I was hoping I could run the second half in about 10-11 hours. The iPod battery died, but I put it back on the charger so I could run with it later in case I didn't have pacers the whole time. 

This is where I decided to take off my ice buff, put on a dry sports bra, and put on a shirt. Though I had liberally lubed with Squirrel's Nut Butter all my usual chafe spots, the ice melting down my back from my buff had created a chafe situation in my butt crack so I applied copious amounts more to try to keep it from getting worse. Behind the 10x10 tent, but still pretty much in plain view, I changed my tops and shoved goopy lube in my shorts. 

I told Dan to get my headlamp and black hat ready so I could just grab those at the last possible minute. I definitely knew I'd need it by the time I got to 60 miles. It was getting tougher to eat and gels just sounded gross. In the middle of the day, I had switched to more water and less Tailwind in my hydration bottle. But I knew I was fading fast without many calories so I forced myself to try to eat a little something at each aid station and drink a cup of soda. Thankfully, I did have pee again which meant that at least I was hydrating okay (not great, but enough to pee!). John had been sick for hours and not peeing and ultimately decided to drop which I heard about right around this time. Having been there recently myself, I knew exactly all the emotions he was going through right then. 

At mile 60, I was able to have a pacer. I was so excited to run with someone and keep me motivated to move even when my head got funky. Dan paced me a full 10ish mile loop and I felt pretty good actually in miles 65-68. I really don't remember what order I got cold broth, warm broth, warm soup in over the last 30 miles, but I do know that I was STARVING and got a cup at each of the main aid stations. 

I ran the spur 3 and 1 by myself and then Dan ran spur 2 with me again. 

When we got back to the main aid station, I was at mile 80ish and still had to do the shortest spur to complete the loop. My Garmin was dying so I got my charging cable and charger and my iPod which appeared to be half-charged. I was kind of delirious at this point and just putting one foot in front of the other so I wasn't really sure if and when I'd have my pacers. It took a bit of time to figure out how I was going to wear my charger, charging cable, and Garmin with my belt. I was walking on the shortest spur, stuffing everything into the belt at first, but then it was too heavy and bounced so I just left the charger in the pocket, put my watch on my wrist with the cable, and let the cord dangle about. I'm honestly not sure how this didn't annoy me, but I suppose there were too many other annoyances clouding this one.

Angie was ready to pace me for spur 1 at mile 82ish. She noticed a sign near the start/finish that said runners did not need to do spur 3 on their final loop! This made me so happy. We walked a bit while I digested soup and then ran to the timing mat, walked a bit, and ran back to the road. She went back to the tent and because I was still running (and not walking), Dan had to catch up to me on the road. I wanted to run to the sign that said something about the hall of pines and then I took a walk break. I had my little sections broken up to try to run and try to walk, the walk sections getting longer with each loop. 

I think this was the section that he nearly karate chopped an armadillo rustling in the woods. I'm not sure there would have been much to jolt me out of my ultra-fog at that point. I just kind of turned my head when sprang into action, but kept moving along as though nothing had happened. I needed to pee again (yay!) and decided I'd use the porta-potty on the way back from the spur 2 aid station. When I came back, there was someone in it and after waiting 30 seconds, I decided I didn't need to go that bad. 

Back at the main aid station, I went out on spur 3 for the final time. About 100 feet past the timing mat, Angie caught up to me and we trounced out of the woods together. I was definitely doing a lot more walking at this point, but trying to run when I could. I don't really remember what we talked about or the music that was still playing in one my ears, but I was moving forward, making progress.

Dan met me at the trail intersection on the final spur. I didn't want to waste too much time at the aid station knowing that I was going to be done in less than an hour so I just filled my bottle halfway and tried to keep moving. There was considerably more walking at this point because I was thinking that a few minutes here or there really wasn't going to make a difference. I was going to be finishing around 20 hours or so. We walked a bit on the road and I had told Dan earlier in the loop that I was just going to run again once I saw the tents. 

But then I looked down and saw 19:52:XX on my watch and knowing in the back of my head he'd force me to run, I said I had less than 8 minutes to make it to the finish line to get under 20 hours. He rallied me to get my legs moving and while cursing him, I found that last gear to push for the final minutes. I knew the pain would be over soon and as I saw the first lights of the tents and then the timing clock, the sub-20 hours was happening. 19:58:05, 3rd female, 10th overall. 

The race director handed me my buckle and I posed for a few photos at the finish line.

POST-RACE

Back at the tent, I sat in a chair for the first time in 20 hours and felt the cloud of exhaustion grip me. I knew it wouldn't change much, but I did sip slowly on a Tailwind recovery drink, trying to rehydrate and get in some calories. Dan's brother-in-law graciously fired up a few bratwurst for us and I mindlessly chewed slowly, eating 3/4 over what seemed like an eternity. My wet clothes soon felt cold, but I really didn't want to move so I sat until the 3 of them packed up. As soon as they were gone (Dan helping, but coming back), I changed into dry clothes and crawled halfway into my sleeping bag. By the time Dan came back, I was asleep.

At first light, I started to stir, legs throbbing, a layer of dew coating me and the sleeping bag. I sat in the chair for awhile, just watching the morning unfold.

Eventually, after Dan awoke, we decided to start to break down camp, find some breakfast, take showers, and come back to watch Jen finish. Rain was starting to try to come down when we came back, but fortunately never too hard. As the clock crept near 30 hours, we peered down the asphalt, watching for Jen and Angie to come around the bend. Soon, even in the distance, I could spot them and knew she was going to make it easily under the 30 mark. I desperately wanted to run in with her, but my legs were so tight that I just had to hobble down to the finish line, hoping I had enough time to stay ahead of her for a finish photo. Mission complete.

It wasn't my fastest 100, it wasn't my first time running 100 miles, but it was the first outright 100 mile race I've done. There were plenty of things that went wrong, but there was a lot that went right and I'm happy that I ran a pretty consistently paced race (for that distance) and stayed pretty positive. 

My short list of what worked: broth, music, all the portable chargers, handheld hydration instead of a pack, Hoka Carbon X, ice buff (but I really need to figure out how to keep my shorts dry if that's even possible), mini Cokes, smaller doses of caffeine, properly taking time at aid stations, dry clothes, and alternating pacers.

Link to splits on Strava here.  

Javelina Jundred DNF: Failure is not fatal ....and other cliche things

I always prided myself on not having any DNFs. Like, I thought was too strong mentally to just throw in the towel. But here I am, a few days removed from the first time I willingly pulled out of a race. It wasn’t because I missed the cutoff and couldn’t go on or had some acute injury that forced me to stop. The short story is that I stopped having fun around mile 30, felt increasingly nauseated, puked my guts up and then some, and wandered for about an hour and a half at a snail’s pace trying to keep sips of water down. And when I finally reached the aid station at mile 50ish, I didn’t want to rally. Honestly, I think if I had been given a pep talk, forced to sit for 30 minutes to get down some fluids and food, and waited for the sun to dip down a bit more, I would have finished. But since that time machine hasn’t been made, I just have to live with those self-loathing pangs of not finishing something.

I feel stupid now that the race is over because I’m playing all the “what if” scenarios in my head as though I can go back in time and change anything I did. I had SO MUCH TIME. Seriously. I had almost 19 hours to finish 50 miles with the 100 mile cutoff being 30 hours. Runner math tells me I just had to complete two 9.5 hour marathons. If I just walked at a reasonable pace, I could have finished. But by the time I had sat down on the cot in the medical tent, I had already called Adam twice, preparing him that I was on the verge of DNFing because I didn’t want him to worry about expecting me. He said all the right things, both supportive of me if I had to stop and encouraging me to keep at it.

I was most mad because here was the first ultra I had hauled not just Adam out for across the country, but I had Roger and Chantal flying in from Denver and Atlanta to pace. The guilt I felt was extraordinary and everything seemed (very dramatically at the time) like a huge waste. As I wavered back and forth in the very appropriately named “Jackass Junction” aid station, I knew the disappointment of letting my team down was going to feel just as bad as letting myself down. I braced myself for the pitying epithets.

The reality of the DNF is about as I expected. A little like the grieving process, but in a narcissistic, party-of-one style. No one cares about it in the way that I do, nor would I expect them to. And I’m sure anyone in my position has had a similar response. It hurts really, really bad at first. Especially when you are by yourself, stuck in your own thoughts. And then, like with anything, time begins to help you realize this is just one thing in your life (and good God, mine is pretty great so I really should shutthefuckup) and everything will be okay.

The longer version is that I’ve spent the last 20 weeks training for this race. I only took Mondays off of running. I ran workouts I never thought I’d hit. I woke up early Saturday and Sunday to get my long runs in during the summer. I felt ready, confident, fit. I had a crew and pacers. I knew other people that would be running that I would be able to see throughout the day. I trained in the heat. I was EXCITED.

When I woke up just before 5am on race morning and crawled outside my tent, I was thrilled to be toeing the line. There were no real race nerves, just ready to get the show on the road. Chantal was clutch and dropped my bags for me, filled my pack, and found Roger and Adam for me before the start. My body felt good, I got plenty of rest, and the weather on race morning felt perfect.

Photo cred: Chantal Elmore 

The gun went off for wave 1 and I was in the mid-pack of the group. Hoping to have some people help me stay at a conservative pace, but not too far behind to lose time while the temps were nice. I felt great as the sun started to rise and though my first couple of miles were a little slower than I preferred, I was also cognizant that I had a long way to go.

Photo cred: Roger Beutler 

I breezed through the first aid station without grabbing anything as both my bottles were full at the start and I had extra water in my hydration bladder. I was staying on top of eating something every 30 minutes from the beginning and sipping on GU Roctane.

As we climbed to the top of the loop at Jackass Junction, I was in good spirits and feeling happy about the day ahead. The crowd started to thin out at that point and I ran alone for a few miles until I got to Rattlesnake. It was starting to warm up a bit, but I still super comfortable and the downhill miles were super easy. I took a pit stop at Rattlesnake to pee, topped off my hydration, got some sunscreen sprayed on me, and carried on towards finishing the first loop.

I started talking to a fellow runner named William and later, Rick and we cruised for a few miles filling the miles with conversation. It really made the time fly by and I was in high spirits. I spotted Jamie and encouraged him to keep going as our chatty train rolled by - he was 2 weeks out from a killer race at Kona and understandably a bit unrecovered? I was hoping he’d rally by the time he got back to the start/finish.

I wasn’t expecting to see my crew/pacers at Jeadquarters and it was such a happy surprise. I wasn’t really sure if they were just planning to stay all day and was hoping I’d see them again and again (even though I thought I’d be okay without them) because it really boosted my spirits.

Photo creds: Roger Beutler, Chantal Elmore, Adam Liebowitz 

I refilled my pack with nutrition, got my bottles refilled, tied my shoe, and headed back out for loop 2. I was cruising really well until I got to Rattlesnake and caught up with Laura who was in a bit of a rough patch. The heat started to get to me and she smartly doused me with an icy sponge. I filled my Buff and sports bra with ice and then set out to reach the top of the loop again. I don’t really remember too much from Jackass the second time.

My spirits started to drop a bit as I headed back to Jeadquarters and I started to slow down a bit even though I was going downhill. The last 2 miles seemed to take forever and I was feeling very mopey when I grabbed my mile 41.2 bag. I tried to get in some calories and walk a bit to let everything settle. A girl passed by me running steadily and she asked if I had done the race before, if I’d done other 100s, etc. I was in such a funky mood that I really didn’t want to talk, but I stayed behind her about 30 feet when she pulled away and let her pace me for a mile or two.

Back at Cowboy, I was feeling really blah, but still running a bit and dipped a couple of pieces of watermelon in salt hoping for a revival. It was maybe about a mile down the trail that I instantly felt sick. I stepped off to the side of the trail and projectile vomited. Hoping I had just hit the reset button, I actually was happy at first. I thought it might help me feel better. But I took a few steps and did it again, and again, and when there was nothing else left, I was just dry heaving. Runners were stopping, asking if I was okay, if they could help, if they could give me anything. I just shook my head.

I tried to just walk slowly for a few minutes and even gave running a try briefly, but everything was hurting at that point. I wanted to stop and rest for a moment, but the sun was still powerful and the ice in my Buff was quickly melting. As I crept down the trail, my power walk turned into just a regular walk and later, I started wandering side to side. I was aware of it, but I also felt like I was out of control of it. A runner tried to encourage me to go with him and after I told him I had been throwing up, he said he would let the aid station know I was coming in.

The only cool thing about this was that I was moving slow enough that I plenty of time to pull out my phone to take a photo of eventual race winner and one of my favs, Kaci Lickteig.

The time seemed to stretch on forever. People would tell me how far they thought the aid station was in miles or minutes, but I was so out of it that I couldn’t really compute how much longer I had to go. I called Adam twice and was likely being incoherent. I didn’t want him to worry if I wasn’t showing up on the tracker as expected and I wanted to prepare him for my very imminent feeling of DNF. He showed me compassion, but also encouraged me to just keep going and see how I felt when I got back to Jeadquarters. At the time, I could barely handle going another quarter mile.

When I finally got to Jackass after what felt like an eternity of walking, I was greeted by a girl who led me into the medical tent. I explained my symptoms to the medic and they took my blood pressure and pulse. As time crept on, I couldn’t contemplate going back out and the nausea was not subsiding. I tried to sip some ginger ale and immediately felt horrible. The medic told me he could give me nausea medication and while I know he must of explained it meant that I had to drop after taking it, I was not lucid at the time.

They tested my blood sugar and gave me the nausea medication and shortly thereafter, Laura showed up. She sat in the chair next to my cot and encouraged me to join her in the next section. Unfortunately, it was too late as I had taken the medication. I was 50% disappointed because I was actually feeling a bit better at that point, but 50% relieved that now the decision was out of my hands.

Once I confirmed I couldn’t go back out, it hit me like a ton of bricks. I’m not sure why I thought I could renege on my pulling out after I said I would drop. Clearly, there was a bit of delirium. I laid on the cot trying to get my stomach feeling okay and managed to get down a cup of broth and finally some water. One of the medics grabbed me a slice of cheese pizza and I ate two bites before curling up with it and my pack underneath a sleeping bag, waiting for what I later dubbed the “loser van” (allow me a little bit of self-deprecating humor).

The “loser van”, aka the shuttle back to Jeadquarters, was running really behind and so I watched people coming through Jackass still in good spirits. Later, I realized I was happy it took so long for the van to come because I had run the gamut of emotions by the time I reach my crew. I posted on FB because I knew people were tracking me and talked to my mom because that’s what mom’s do. And tried to give myself a little grace that I wasn’t the worst friend/wife in the world for hauling people out in the desert to watch me DNF.

The silver lining to it all? I got to go back to these amazing people who cheered me up and then helped Tom get his buckle. In a transformation of events, my pacers were now free for him to use and I was able to experience a bit of the other side of the race. Roger went out with him on loop 4 and Chantal brought him to the finish line on loop 5. Of course I was insanely jealous that he was basically on pace for what I intended and was using my rockstars. Dammit, I’m human after all. But I was also seriously so moved that they stepped in, no questions asked, to run 20 miles each in the dark desert with a stranger. And that Tom had such an incredible first 100 miler - his gratitude for what had just happened when he finished was genuine. There was lots of hugging, big smiles, and though we were all exhausted, everyone seemed to be briefly full of life as we made our way back to the parking lot.

On Saturday, I definitely never wanted to run the race again. On Sunday, I was thinking that I would consider it again, but I was going to have to think about it. By Monday, I was busy plotting my revenge. And by that timeline, I’m hoping that the disappointment, the feelings of guilt and what ifs slowly fade away and that what I remember more about the weekend is the laughter, the friendships, the support of those I know and love dearly, the support of the incredible running community, and how lucky I really am that my “disappointing” day is running 50 miles in the desert.

Hinson Lake 24 Hour 2019

This smile is super fake. Photo credit: Peter Asciutto

It's hard to believe that the last time I pinned on a race bib was at EVEREST BASE CAMP. (Yes, I'm shouting about it. It is the coolest thing I'll probably ever do.)

I have signed up for Hinson Lake 24 Hour Endurance Run every year since 2016 when I had my sights set on running 100 miles for the first time. I had no idea what to expect in 2016 (109 miles), had big goals in 2017 (115 miles), and was less than 2 months out of the boot/training for NYC Marathon in 2018 (58 miles). This year, my big goal for fall is Javelina Jundred in October and while plenty of cool kids can go run a 100 miler one month and then do it again the next month, I know I am not one of those runners.

All summer long, I was feeling a bit of FOMO from not racing, but I was also really proud of myself for not signing up for things just because everyone else was. I truly was training for a goal race and watching my fitness build with each increasing week. I'll be the first to admit I was antsy to post big mileage numbers right after I got back from Nepal, but now I'm really happy to have the buildup go nice and easy.

Heading into Hinson, I knew it would be an opportunity for me to get in a long run as well as get some night running miles in. After conferring with my coach, we decided I would do 50k on Saturday and then 15-20 miles on Sunday morning after getting some rest. Left to my own devices, I certainly would have not had the restraint I exercised and I'm honestly happy I did.

I got to Rockingham on Friday just after noon, dropped my gear at camp, and downed a Subway sandwich in about 7 seconds. Then I came back to camp, set up my tent, picked up my bib, and went back out for ice and other supplies. I vegged out with Jenster, Angie, and John the rest of the afternoon and eventually, carbed up at the $8 pasta dinner put on by the race. We chatted for a bit around camp after dinner, drinking beer/wine and catching up.

I got close to 9 hours of sleep and felt really well-rested when I woke up. The best part of camping at Hinson is that I never worry about setting an alarm or sleeping through the race because it's plenty noisy in the morning when everyone starts to stir. Morning prep went as planned (or so I thought, re: chafe prevention) and I had a bagel with almond butter and a small cup of cold brew.

At 8am, the race started and for the first hour or so, the temperature was reasonably pleasant. I decided to pick up my bottle of GU Roctane at the 3rd lap (mile 4.5) as that would allow me a few miles of not having to deal with holding it. I meant to grab a gel at that time too, but forgot and was already behind the nutrition by the time I got to mile 6 (mistake #1).

I thought I'd be okay because I used about 2.5 scoops of Roctane and then proceeded to take a gel every 45 minutes or so for the next few hours, but eventually, I got lazy about my nutrition (mistake #2). Plus, my handheld lid was not screwed down tightly when I had the race volunteer fill it with Gatorade and it was squirting all over the place. It was just annoying the shit out of me and so I chugged what was left and threw it in my camp chair (mistake #3).

I knew in years past that I had success in staying around 10:00 pace in the beginning and could somehow manage to keep that through around 100k, give or take a few miles where I might need a little extra time for pit stops. It seemed super easy for the first couple of hours, but I knew even when I got to the first of 2 prescribed tempo parts of my run that there was no way I was going to have the gas to do it. I had basically given up before I even started. So I just kept on with my supposed forever pace until I was clinging on and just waiting for that 50K mark to rollover on my watch.

Dying on the inside. Photo credit: Peter Asciutto

As the day warmed up, I was trying to be all proactive about staying cool and grabbed ice for my sports bra and buff. Except it was so humid that nothing was drying out and everything was sopping wet. I had applied plenty of Vaseline to my thigh, the top of my shorts, crack (sorrynotsorry TMI), and on the front part of my sports bra. However, I negated to put any on the back part of my sports bra or the liner of my shorts (mistake #4). BECAUSE WHO CHAFES FROM THE SHORTS LINER? Oh wait, I do...FML.

I felt the chafe slowly and increasingly stinging and at mile 25, I stopped and put on capris despite the rising temperatures. Fun fact: there was a huge hole in the hip on them. But it's ultrarunning and I honestly would have still put them on even if I had known it beforehand.

So I ran the last 6 miles with gaping capris, wondering how in heck I ever ran 100+ miles around Hinson Lake before and how the heck I was going to do it again in 4 short weeks.

I stopped my watch at the 50K mark and then finished my lap, grabbing a few slices of pizza as I headed to our tent. Then I proceeded to try to hydrate, eat, and stay out of the sun for the next few hours. I laid in Angie's anti-gravity chair for an excessive amount of time, grateful she was actually out running while I was eating pineapple with dirty hands.

Jen sat with me for awhile, staying out of the heat of the day and then she went back out at 5pm to get in some miles. She let me know when hot chicken tenders arrived and I did a lap to go get myself some dinner. And about an hour later, I finally had to go pee so I did another lap to take care of that at the lodge and to stop for more food. I happened to go out at a perfect time to catch a couple of great pictures of the lake at sunset.

Once it got dark, I decided to go try to just lay down in my tent even if I didn't actually fall asleep. I set my alarm for 12:30 a.m. so I could give myself some time get ready for round #2. I think I actually fell asleep a bit despite all the noise and somehow felt really good once I woke up. My legs felt fresh and I was excited to go knock out the miles left prescribed. I asked Jen if she was headed back out and tagged along with her for a number of laps. It was so nice to run with someone and my head was in a much better place when she left me to my own devices around the 10 mile mark.

I decided 15 miles was plenty and then stopped to change into my flip flops so I wouldn't be tempted to run any more. Because I was now walking, I was able to eat and drink pretty easily with each lap. I thought I should stop with each passing lap, but then I was like, well, what the heck else am I going to do? So I just kept walking and surprisingly felt pretty good just cruising around lap after lap.

The sun eventually finally started to come up, I grabbed my banana from the volunteer, and made it halfway through a lap when the buzzer went off at 8:00 a.m., signaling the end of the race.

I completed 63.78 miles and was 39th overall out of 388 runners. Not a shabby day (& night) for the legs.

It was definitely the weirdest Hinson I've had so far. Mostly because I feel like I should be the fittest I've been since 2017, but that 50k did not leave me feeling that way. In fact, I felt like I was even less fit that last year's race! But I also know I went into the race without really much of a taper (40 miles in the prior week and some shorter tempo sessions) and it was arguably the hottest/most humid it's been since I've been racing it. So I'm trying to give myself a little grace and hope that it was a good way to get all the funky racing out of my system before Javelina!

QC Returns to the Trails: Mountain Mist 50K Race Report

Pre-race After conferring with my coach weeks ago, we decided that the Mountain Mist 50k would be the best option for me to meet the required qualification for the Georgia Death Race - a 50k trail race in the last calendar year. The elevation and technicality would be a great tune-up and a chance for me to test gear and nutrition.

Though I could have driven the 3.5 hour drive, gaining an hour crossing into Central Time, I opted to camp overnight at Monte Sano State Park. I left work at 2pm Friday to make it in time before sunset and was treated to a very beautiful drive through the tiny mountain towns of northwest Georgia/northeast Alabama. At the park, I went straight to the camp host to check in and got both a dinner recommendation and directions to the race start (more on that later).

I blindly picked the camp site online and chose a spot that was nearest to the restrooms. My good fortune meant I was treated to a beautiful view of Huntsville and I arrived just at sunset. I made a quick call to Adam and then changed into running gear for a 2 mile shakeout run around the campground. I watched the big orange thing dip below the horizon and then headed out to packet pickup (at the lodge) and to grab dinner.

I was a little worried about the camp host's recommendation at first. I had asked for a place that served pizza and beer and he asked if Italian would be okay. He explained they didn't really have many items with red sauce and yeah, they have some beer. I was picturing loads of fettuccine alfredo with goopy white cream sauce and reminded of when Michael Scott carbo-loads before the "Michael Scott's Dunder Mifflin Scranton Meredith Palmer Memorial Celebrity Rabies Awareness Pro-Am Fun Run Race for the Cure"5K and promptly vomits.

But, the pizza was seriously some of the best I have ever had and the beer selection, while not vast, was a nicely culled collection of local favorites (re: Huntsville IPAs) and national specialties (Kentucky Bourbon Barrel Stout). I always like to err on the side of being really full before a race, especially an ultra, so I loaded up on a donut hole-esque dessert. Also, I just like donuts.

I stopped at a gas station on the way back to fill up my tank, get some cold brew coffee, and a back-up muffin in case there was some tragedy with my overnight oats. Back at camp, I settled into my 0° rated sleeping bag (Everest testing), read a little of David Goggins "Can't Hurt Me", and fell asleep before 10pm. The sleeping bag was beyond warm enough in the 20°-ish degree weather. I actually woke up at one point and had to crawl out of it because I was too warm.

The alarm went off at 6:20am and while I was cozy, I was also ready to get the show going. I changed in the warm bathroom and ate my oats. Just after 7am, I headed to the race start. I double-checked the map and walked about 5 minutes before I realized the trail was not terribly discernible in the winter and panicked that I might be late to the race. I turned around and decided to take my chances to drive up to the lodge. Again, I totally lucked out and parked just outside the entrance on the side of the road with just enough time to stand around and get cold before the start.

Race morning I lined up in the first third of the pack behind the start line. In reading race reports and talking to runners who had raced it, I knew the first 20 miles were pretty runnable and the last 11 or so were tough. This was supposed to be a training run of sorts (though we all know I'm competitive so it's not like I wasn't going to give it my best effort) and I really wanted to just stay relaxed as much as possible.

The first mile was pavement and I was far from warmed up. Everything felt stiff and stagnant and I was annoyed that despite taking it relatively easy, it felt awkward. We hit the fire road and things started to get a little better with softer footing and I tried to just stay with the little packs around me, only passing if necessary in this point. I didn't want to get stuck too far behind once we got to the single track.

People were not really talking much around me at this point, which in retrospect, I guess I was closer to the front of the pack than I thought initially. By the time we reached the single track section and through the first aid station at mile 6.7, I just tried to stay as comfortable as possible. Any time I thought I wanted to pass someone, I gave it an extra minute or two. It's so easy to push in the beginning, but I didn't want to feel like garbage at the end. The course in this section was moderately muddy - bad in some sections, but there was definitely very runnable spots and I did feel like we did a lot of downhill running.

There was some switching around of people at the aid stations as some people stopped for a bit longer. I grabbed a cup of Gatorade, a single pretzel, and kept right on moving. At this point, I was behind 3 females who were bombing the downhills pretty efficiently and I decided to stay in tow.  Once we got into the section I would dub the "Power Line Field", I was relaxed and just enjoying listening to their chatter back and forth about various things.

Once we reached the first climb, dubbed "K2", one of the girls jetted up ahead and while I was tempted to pursue her, I knew it was too early to get caught up in competition. I knew my skills lied in power hiking ups and I'd wait until the final 2 climbs to put on the afterburners. We still had 20+ miles to go.

At the 11.9 mile aid station, I grabbed a cup of Mello Yello and filled up my water flask. I went trotting off down the trail and a few minutes past the aid station, full on Supermanned going up a tiny hill. Apparently I hit the ground with enough impact that runners in both directions asked if I was okay. Yes, yes, just a little blood mixed with hurt pride. My bib completely ripped off and I had to take a few extra seconds to pin it back on. But, once I was back on the trail, I started to feel great! It was like the fall had woken me up.

The next section had a short little climb that led up to a section called "Stone Cuts". Giant slabs of stone with a trail that meanders through them. Runners had to squeeze through narrow cuts and limbo underneath low cave-like areas. It was really, really cool and despite the slowdown, it was pretty awesome to be "running" through natural wonders.

From prior race reports, I learned that if you doubled your time at he mile 17 aid station, that would be the approximate time you could expect for the race. I came in just shy of 3 hours and was then just hoping to hold onto 6 hours. I was feeling a bit peppier in the next section and happy that there was finally a break to run without being so bunched up for a bit. There was a swift little descent full of rocks and then a bunch of muddy trail at the bottom before reaching the aid station just past mile 20. I was tempted to take a shot of Fireball at this aid station, but nothing was going inherently good or bad so I decided to stay with the status quo of Mello Yellow.

The next section was the infamous Railroad Trail, a rocky nightmare of a trail. The only saving grace is that it was relatively flat for a couple of miles, but it seems as though I couldn't get much more speed because the footing was terrible. I got behind a group of guys who were talking like it was the first few miles of the race and let them lead the pack up the Bluffline Trail and the ridiculousness of the Waterline Trail. It is in this section that you use all 4 points of contact to hoist yourself over slippery rocks along a waterfall. Fortunately, I was still feeling spry at this point and my flexibility is fairly decent so I had no trouble with this section. I was laughing at how crazy it was, but I was actually having fun bouldering over rocks. Check out the runners in the top right of the photo below!

Photo credit: Andy Highsmith

At the top of the climb (sweet relief!), I took off down the Bluffline Trail and started to try to make up some time. I wasn't moving super fast, but I was passing a bunch of runners who had gassed out near the 24-25 mile mark. Once we reached the next descent, I started running with John and he nicely explained the final sections and what to expect. The mud was incredibly thick in the flattish section near the water and my tired legs were exhausted by the repeated pull of the muck. I was actually grateful for the climb as it was drier and I could actually gain footing.

We didn't even stop at the last aid station and I noted there was 1.6 miles to go. Glancing at my watch, I saw it was about 5:40:XX. If the aid station sign was correct, I could still slip under 6 hours. Luckily, the trail was pretty flat and runnable at this point and while I didn't have a sense of how far we were, I started to see more hikers out walking their dogs - a sure sign we were closer to the trailhead. John was dealing with a side stitch and urged me to go on when stopped to walk. I stayed with him the first time and we started running again, but then I heeded his advice when stopped again and pushed for the finish solo.

I heard the music of the finish line first and then I spotted the arch as I came around the final bend. I crossed in 5:55:42 according to Garmin. I stepped off to the side and waited to see John finish, giving him a huge high five as he also made it under 6 hours. Eventually, I headed indoors for the warmth and to grab my finisher's slate and age group award, a backpack.

 

Takeaways:

Food/Hydration: B Throughout the race, I ate 2 RX bars, 2 Spring energy gels, and a GU that I picked up from an aid station. I had 1 pretzel rod, 1 Oreo, and an orange slice. My hydration was mostly water, but I also took 1 cup of Gatorade and 2 cups of Mello Yello. The cooler weather made hydration a bit trickier and I think I should carry something with a bit of electrolytes like Nuun or Tailwind for GDR. I was definitely cramping post-race and it took a couple of cups of Sprite and food for it to stop. Also, I could have done a better job hydrating the day before. I avoided it because of the road trip and I think I started the day a bit dehydrated.

Gear: C My bladder in my Camelpack was not secured in some sort of way so I was slowly leaking water for the first couple of miles in the beginning of the race. I think I didn't have the cap seal on flush and it sloshed out from the top. I still was able to drink from it through about 10-12 miles, but then it was just extra weight. I think I'd prefer to just rely on flasks as they are easier to fill. Plus, for some reason, the hose across my chest was SO ANNOYING. To be fair, I kept thinking it was good that my hose was annoying me and not physical pain. But I am going to have to mitigate those minor annoyances.

Half capris were a good choice, probably should have just done a t-shirt and arm warmers. I really only needed gloves for the first couple of miles.

Hoka Torrents proved successful on the mud, rocks, and gnarly trail. I have zero blisters and my Swiftwick socks were a great choice - despite me blowing a hole through the toe of one of them.

Physical Training: A I'm officially in week 5 of my coached training and because this was a training race, I didn't have a true taper. In fact, I just came off my biggest true mileage week in over a year and ran 5 days leading up to the race, including a speed session on Tuesday. So while I am bit disappointed in my time for the race (I was hoping for 5:30 or so), I have to keep in perspective that I was not running on fresh legs and this was not the goal race. I ran a really patient race and fortunately felt the best at the end.

Mental Training: A+ I never hit really high highs or really low lows in this race. The points that I wasn't feeling great really were just when I wasn't pushing on the gas pedal. And while I do love the endorphin rush of the high highs, I think it's actually better that things were just really steady-eddy. The course and the conditions of the trail could have beat me up, but I kept telling myself when it got tough that I like doing hard things.